Elusive Hearts - Cullen and Amell
by IsharaYar
Summary: He was tortured and tormented and for over a year her image has haunted his nightmares. She was left behind in a circle that was falling apart. Escape was the only solution. Leaving a trail of blood in her wake a necessity. She is everything he hates and fears and the only one his heart has ever desired. He is a symbol of that which tore apart the only home she has ever known.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hi All!  
Just a few things, firstly this story will be pretty dark over all. There will be an eventual relationship. It is the first part of a three part story. The second will run along side this one with Anders and Hawke and the third will be a sequel to both. Don't expect it to be all sunshine and roses!

I will be delving in to mental health issues so be warned. I will also be digging in to the not-so-nice side of the circles. This means torture, rape and other such activities will at least be mentioned, possibly with some detail.

It is set during the DA2 timeline. There are AU 'what if' scenarios with canon divergence. The sequel will be set during Inquisition.  
Otherwise I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to drop me a line. I can take constructive criticism as I am always looking to improve my works.

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Not many were stouthearted enough to venture out into the streets of Kirkwall at night, least of all alone. Darktown was home to the worst. Criminals of all varieties were attracted to the dark alley ways and run down abandoned buildings. It was also home to many civilians who simply could not afford to pay for accommodation. All too often they made the easiest targets for slavers or employers who only ever wanted to pay the smallest fee for the most work. It didn't help that many were desperate enough to accept even the lowest paid jobs. Hightown and Lowtown also saw their fair share of trouble at night. Some might even have said sections of Lowtown were equally as bad if not worse than Darktown for attracting unfavourable types. The blight had seen an increase in all such activities. So many were left homeless and desperate for a change in fortune.

The blight had also brought with it an increase in mage activities. There were apostates who, along with everyone else, had sought refuge in Kirkwall to flee the Darkspawn armies. Those who once they arrived did not even hold enough coin for passage away from the city.

In one of the lesser used alleyways of Lowtown, the sound of each clink from armored boots could be heard echoing with each step. He could feel rough skin against his scalp as he ran his fingers through the curly hair uptop his head. Cullen had come to despise these nights. Instead of decreasing as he hoped they would, the occurrences had increased in frequency. He came to a stop at the end of the alley. It was as close to The Hanged Man as he dared to venture so that he too, did not risk being caught. The air was still and humid, everything around him was almost eerily silent. Even in the stillness the scent of stale alcohol still reached his nose, which wrinkled involuntarily in response. Just how many drunken men or women had traversed the darkened alleyway, avoiding parents or angry spouses, and expelled the contents of their stomachs? It was one of those thoughts that assaulted his mind when he didn't even care for the answer.

The wait had not been a long one when the shrill whistle pierced through the silence. Hawke appeared around the corner with the protesting Templar's arm firmly in her grasp. The whistle was her way of letting Cullen know what to expect. She was dressed in her usual attire of black leather armor that served the purpose of making her lithe form appear larger. Out of the shadows from the buildings, as the moonlight caught them, the metallic studs scattered across the shoulder pads glinted. When caught by the light at the right angles almost blindingly so. A sword hung at her side, sheathed but easily accessible at a moments notice. Hawke always appeared ready to deal with any situation that might come her way. She had the appearance someone you didn't want to mess with unless you were serious about it. Her name was often mentioned in passing conversations and if there was any truth to the stories told, she was equally as tough as she appeared to be.

"I believe this belongs to you," she said as she approached Cullen. There was no delay in her actions when she gave the drunken Templar a shove in Cullen's direction. Normally she was poised with a hint of mischief in her eyes. However as he regarded her carefully her blue eyes were burning with a barely contained fury. Her shoulders were tense and her actions carefully measured as if she was only just holding herself back from unleashing a world of pain on whoever might be in the way.

The Templar stumbled and Cullen was quick to grip an arm to steady the man before he could fall. "Do I want to know?" He asked her with a wary expression. Once the Templar was steadied on his feet, Cullen dropped his arm back to his side.

"Hey! What did ya drag me out for? I coulda stayed for more ale." Berton protested. The slurring of his words were indicative of the alcohol he had already consumed. "I could have handled one stupid little mage."

"That mage was about to fry him. He is lucky I got him out when I did," she was addressing Cullen. For the most part she was ignoring the drunken antics of the other Templar.

If there was one thing about Hawke that had often caught his notice it was her more guarded nature around each of the Templars. Every word was carefully considered before passing through her lips. He suspected she might be assisting apostates but he had not managed to find proof of her activities.

'A mage? I don't suppose you-" any further words he was saying were cut off by her quick response. It was a dance they had performed many times over the past month. He always at least made the attempt even if it was futile.

"You know very well, that's not going to happen." After a moment of pause she continued, "Why do you keep dragging it out of the trouble it gets itself into anyway?" Her question was accentuated by the jerk of her thumb in Berton's direction.

Cullen shrugged, "He is young and when he is sober he performs his duties flawlessly."

Cullen thought Berton had shown great promise with his prowess in combat. He was also pleasant enough to converse with, when he wasn't drunk. However more and more the young man spent his nights in the bar downing countless mugs of ale and subsequently finding himself in troublesome situations. Regardless of Cullen's efforts to try and curb that particular habit of his, it had only become worse over the past month.

"Do those duties include torturing and raping mages in prison cells? That was the nature of his bragging tonight." The tone of her voice was as cold as ice. Hawke's eyes narrowed as she looked in Berton's direction.

"Sweet little thing she was, skin as smooth as silk. Why do all the pretty ones have to be mages?" Berton slurred as he stumbled, he fell to the ground with a resounding thump before Cullen even had a chance to steady him.

"Look, I have been here for a couple of months now and seen no evidence that those rumors hold any truth to them." He could feel the hair on the back of his neck prickling. What if the rumors were true? Members of the Templar Order were expected to behave favourably, to be a symbol of everything that was right and just. They were a symbol of protection to the people. There was no honor in such activities. "I will talk to Berton in the morning about his claims," Cullen glanced down at the form that was fumbling and slipping as he tried, yet failed, to stumble his way back up to his feet. "I doubt I will get much sense out of him tonight."

Hawke nodded and her tense shoulders relaxed slightly, "I wish you luck."

He watched her as she strode back down the alley. Just before turning the corner she met up with a hooded figure. They were too far away for him to make out the words they exchanged. It was made especially difficult to hear anything with Berton beside him slurring something about kicking a chicken, the man was clearly deliriously drunk. The hooded figure seemed careful to remain out the light cast onto the sidewalk by one of The Hanged Man's windows. However, as they turned to leave, the side of her hood slipped momentarily. She didn't seem to have seen him watching as she readjusted it and disappeared around the corner with Hawke.

Cullen's throat had begun to feel as if it was constricting, becoming ever tighter until he could barely breathe. It was only a quick glimpse but he would know that profile anywhere. The high set of her cheekbones. The smooth set of her jaw. Her almost flawless skin. He could even picture in his mind the parts shadowed by the dark. The slight imperfection where her earlobe attached to the side of her head and the freckle on the side of her nose. He remembered spending many hours watching that very same face from all angles. Committing every detail to memory but never daring to touch her. Although he wasn't the perfect Templar and broke his fair share of smaller regulations, there were some lines he would never cross.

Her presence in Kirkwall, under the veil of a dark cloak in an attempt to hide her identity could mean only one thing; She had escaped the circle and was now officially an apostate.

Seeing her meant it would be his job to report the sighting to the Knight-Commander.

Knowing her meant he would be tasked with locating her and taking her in.

He wasn't sure what disturbed him the most. Having to perform those tasks or the fact that he was almost looking forward to having another apostate hauled in and off the streets.

Beside him Berton let out a groan as he doubled over. The sour smell of alcohol and stale food assaulted Cullen's nose as the contents of the other Templar's stomach spilled out onto the sidewalk.

Cullen had really come to despise these nights.


	2. Chapter 2

Soft blue eyes peered cautiously at her surroundings from under the hood before she raised a pale hand up to push the dark garment away from her head. Once free, she shook her head until her black locks sat in a somewhat disheveled mess about her shoulders.

At that moment two things occupied her mind. The first was the fact that the moment she took in a breath her airways filled with cigar smoke, alcohol fumes and sweat. This alone made her regret the decision not to go straight back to the estate. How anyone could enjoy spending hours at a time in a place such as The Hanged Man was beyond her. It was noisy and blanketed with smoke, her lungs felt as if they were going to combust if she didn't pass out from lack of oxygen first. She couldn't get much further away from the quiet circle libraries if she tried.

The second was the look, no the glare, Hawke had given her out in the alley. The woman was clearly furious and had all but demanded they return to The Hanged Man. Jayde took in a deep breath, it was hard enough always feeling as if she was on the outside of Hawke's little group without having her angry as well. Her head was already thumping after spending the day at Anders clinic assisting him. No matter how many people they healed there was always another right behind who needed help, it was never ending but at the same time rewarding in its own way. She wondered how he ever managed to keep up with the demand on his own when the two of them had struggled to keep up. Nevertheless after a grueling day facing her cousins temper was not something one looked forward to.

"Well you look about as exhausted as I feel. Thank you for your help today." Anders said as he came to a stop in front of her.

Jayde offered him smile and a nod, "I owe you one remember?"

He was quick to shake his head, "Don't ever feel that you have to work with me because I helped you. I did that because I wanted to."

"I know. I want to help, at least until I find work." She regarded him carefully for a moment, "Anders.. My name wasn't the only one on that list."

"I know. I promise they are trying to get the others out. After your escape security has been tightened, right now no one is getting in or out of there. Not even the Templars." His expression was serious and he looked as concerned as she felt.

"So they are going to die because of me?" Jayde shook her head and bit her lower lip. Some of her closest friends had been on that list and because of her selfishness they would have to face what she had just barely escaped. "If I had just waited-"

Anders cut her off quickly, "They still have time. You didn't. None of this was your fault."

As she looked away from Anders her eyes met a set of angry looking bright blue eyes. She had almost forgotten about Hawke for a moment but she was fast being reminded as her cousin was storming in her direction. Before she even had a chance to excuse herself, fingers gripped her arm tightly and pulled her in the direction of Varric's room.

As Hawke closed the door firmly behind them, she suddenly wished she had the ability to shrink to the size of a mouse. "Are you purposely trying to bring the Templars down on us?!" Hawke demanded.

Jayde carefully shook her head but remained quiet. Her heart was pounding so hard that it almost drowned out Hawke's angry words. Even if she could manage to find her voice she was certain whatever she did say would only give her cousin more ammo for her fury.

"You do realise that you aren't the only mage amongst us that we need to worry about, right?" Hawke spat out with a raised voice.

Jayde nodded this time in response, her eyes widened involuntarily as she took a step backwards. "I would never wish any harm on Bethany. You know that."

"Then what in the Makers name were you thinking?" Hawke yelled in frustration.

Neither of them noticed the door open quietly or Anders closing it again behind him.

"I was thinking that arse of a Templar needed something shoved up his!" Jayde finally said with a raised voice of her own and a determined set to her jaw that conflicted with the fear in her eyes.

Hawke went silent for a moment as she stood her ground watching her. After a brief pause, which to Jayde seemed to stretch out forever, a look of humor crept into her eyes and then she was laughing.

She blinked in confusion as Hawke was wracked by fits of giggles.

"Now you're really starting to sound more like a Hawke then an Amell," Hawke gasped between giggles.

Jayde smiled and raised both of her eyebrows, "Well just look who has been teaching me."

"He would have deserved it too. He really was an arse." Hawke said as the laughter finally subsided. "I'll be damned if I am going to lose Bethany to those bastards though."

Jayde let out a small sigh as she looked away from Hawke, "I can't be certain Cullen didn't see me. My hood did slip a little. Maybe it would be best if I didn't stay at the estate for a while?"

"You can stay at the clinic, it shouldn't be too hard to make up an extra bed," Anders finally spoke up from near the closed door. He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, and both of the women jumped when his voice broke into their conversation.

Hawkes forehead wrinkled into a frown almost instantly. "What about the mansion? Fenris has more than enough space," she blurted out quickly.

"I don't think that is going to work," Jayde replied carefully. "He hates mages."

"What about Is-" Hawke begun before very quickly being cut short.

"Don't even think about mentioning Isabela!" Jayde exclaimed. There was no way she was going to be stuck in a small room dealing with Isabela and her latest conquests. All night, every night.

"Fine. Suit yourselves then," Hawke growled before ejecting herself from Varric's room with her arms folded and a dark cloud hanging over her head.

Anders was looking in the direction Hawke had just gone with a bewildered expression, "What is with her lately? I swear she has more mood swings than a pack of hungry Mabari."

Jayde pressed her lips together and remained quiet. How was it even possible Anders was about the only one who didn't see it? She wasn't about to be the one to tell him, she was hardly one to be giving anyone relationship advice.

"I am going to head back to the estate and pick up a few things. I'll see you at the clinic later." She reached for her hood and slipped it back up over her head.

"You're not staying for Wicked Grace?" He asked after her.

Jayde paused in the doorway and shook her head, before speaking quietly. "I'm not much of a player anyway, besides I prefer the quiet."

"I understand. It takes everyone a while to get used to being out of the circle, especially those who were taken so young." His tone was filled with the compassion of both a healer and a friend. She was just grateful at least one person understood some of what she was going through. Although they had not been best friends, or even close friends during their shared time in Kinloch Hold. Anders had been a familiar face in a sea of strangers when she had first arrived in Kirkwall.

Once she was outside The Hanged Man in the quiet and away from the groping hands of drunken patrons, she was finally able to relax a little. A weary sigh escaped her lips. The night had certainly not gone as she had expected. She missed the quiet, mostly predictable circle life. Everything outside was chaotic and seemed to thrive on being unpredictable. As if to prove her thoughts right, a hand slipped over her mouth covering it completely. She found herself being dragged backwards into the shadows of the closest building. 


	3. Chapter 3

Life had a way of turning in directions that one least expected. On agreeing to transfer away from Kinloch Hold Cullen had done so because it was the right decision. The towers corridors constantly triggered the memories of nightmares best forgotten. Although the nightmares still haunted his sleep the daylight hours had become easier since the transfer. He no longer walked dark corridors that sent his heart racing uncontrollably. He no longer walked past the door that always blurred his vision and made his chest clench as if a dozen bricks had suddenly broken loose from the walls and fallen on him. He no longer saw the faces of the dead flash before his eyes, other than in his dreams. He had also no longer been required to deal with the constant ache in the pit of his stomach every time she crossed his path.

The demons had made it worse.

In the beginning it had been but a small flame that ignited and flickered when he was near her. They were gentle tugs that had drawn him towards her and compelled him to speak with her when no other templar would. Gentle enough that they could be ignored and resisted when he found himself tempted further.

Then the demons came.

They forced him to the ground and fed him lyrium in large doses, the mages that summoned them. The effect had been a strange sensation of being in between both wakefulness and the fade. Then the hallucinations started, only they were real, vivid and every touch could be felt as easily as seen. They came to him in her image and tried to seduce him. The fire that burned within ignited and grew. He felt fingers that were hers but not hers against his bare skin, lips against his lips, soft, taunting, enticing and almost irresistible. He did resist but only barely and the damage had been done. He knew the warmth of her touch, the softness of her lips, how his skin would burn under her administrations. It made resisting her real self in the months after, a constant battle within that he felt he was loosing. It had been a relief to put that distance between them, to have the temptation far out of reach.

Only now she was in Kirkwall. A Mage running around the city unchecked, a danger to them all. Somehow it was difficult to see her as anyone but the shy, quiet, bookish young lady she had been in Ferelden.

After he had seen to it that Berton was securely back in his own quarters, sleeping off his latest stint with too many ales, Cullen had returned to his room. Whilst laying awake in the dark he worked out a story to take to the Knight-Commander the next morning. The story was to go along with the information about the latest apostate now roaming the streets. He couldn't very well tell her he had been out to sneak Berton back in. Coming up with the story had taken no time at all. Convincing himself that he had no choice but to inform her of Jayde's presence in Kirkwall, took somewhat longer and only happened after he had come up short in trying to find a reason not to inform her.

He paused outside of the Knight-Commander's office for a moment before he raised his hand, curled his fingers into his palm and knocked on the door.

A muffled sounding, "Come in," came from somewhere on the other side of the door. As he turned the handle and gave to door a light push, it opened to reveal Meredith huddled over her desk studying a parchment intently.

He cleared his throat, "Knight-Commander."

After a slight delay she broke her eyes away from the parchment and looked up. She was distracted at first until her eyes registered recognition, "Ahh Knight-Captain. I've been meaning to find a moment to speak with you. After having a chance to read the full missive I am afraid it is a matter of some urgency."

Cullen nodded and cupped his hands behind his back as he waited patiently for her to continue.

"I have received word from Kinloch Hold about an escaped mage who they believe might have been heading for Kirkwall," as Meredith paused for a moment Cullen cut in.

"Jayde Amell," he said quietly.

"So you are aware then and you know her?" Meredith's eyes narrowed as she studied him closer.

"That was the purpose of my visit. I was out walking last night. As you are aware I often have trouble sleeping, when I spotted someone who I am fairly certain was her speaking with Hawke." As determined as he was to remain loyal to the Templars and no matter how dangerous he knew mages to be, he still could not keep the slight hitch out of his voice. He knew, more than likely, he had just condemned Jayde to a life of being Tranquil. Should they manage to catch her. "The one part of this that doesn't make sense is, why Kirkwall?"

Kirkwall didn't make any sense to him at all in fact. It was like escaping the circle in Kirkwall and running straight for the Ferelden Circle, only to be caught. No mage in their right minds would risk going near another circle like that without a good reason once they had managed an escape.

"The missives found in her room suggested communication between herself and her family. They expected that she would reach out to them for assistance and it appears as if she has done exactly that," Meredith answered as if the answer should have been obvious to him.

"The last I heard, she had no family." His brow furrowed in confusion, had she lied to him about her family? If that was true what else had she lied about?

"Ahh, Kirkwall history. It is easy to forget sometimes that you are new here. Leandra Hawke was originally Leandra Amell, she fled Kirkwall some years ago to marry an apostate. They returned during the blight and retook control over the Amell Estate. It would appear as though Jayde Amell intended to join them, at least for a while." Meredith moved out from behind her desk to stand in front of Cullen.

"You also need to read the reports of her escape, I will see to it that they are made available to you." Her eyes appeared to bore straight through his, "All of our Templars will need to be on alert. She is dangerous."

Cullen swallowed hard. He had not wanted to believe she may have changed that much but he did know all mages to be capable of it. "What of her phylactery?" He asked. "It would make tracking her exact location faster."

Meredith shifted a little, it had to be the first time Cullen had ever seen her appear uncomfortable. "It seems as if hers was overlooked. It never arrived with the others to begin with."

"That would suggest her escape was planned for some time," Cullen mumbled under his breath. He had still been there when the phylacteries had been moved, she must have been planning an escape all along. Had her sweet, innocent shy act all been faked?

"I have a meeting with the Grand Cleric, I am already late. Read those reports and watch your back," Meredith breezed out of her office, leaving Cullen standing there lost in his own thoughts.

The room in the Gallows was a simple one that served only the most basic needs. Two beds resided on opposite sides with a small set of wooden drawers in between. The drawers served as both a bedside table and a place for underwear to be stored. Beside the door was a small wooden closet barely large enough to hold the most basic clothing for off-duty hours. The remainder of the room was bare and decorated in drab greys that did little to inspire. Normally Cullen spent so little time in the room that he never really thought to be bothered by the lack of space or decor. In addition he rarely saw his roommate, that also suited him well enough. Although the man was friendly Cullen had no real interest in close friendships. He would only lose them again to the next abomination assault, when a few mages decided to go awry.

As he sat in the middle of the bed holding the missive that contained the recount of Jayde's escape. It was one of those moments when he was grateful to be alone. The paper was shaking so violently that reading the written words had become impossible but, he had read enough. His breathing quickened as his throat constricted. His heart was thumping in his chest hard enough he thought it would burst out of his chest and land on the bed at any moment. Cullen closed his eyes and carefully took in a few longer more steady breaths to calm himself. His heart rate and breathing normalised but, the paper in his hand continued to shake. He didn't want to believe her capable of the things the report had said and yet she was.

The report read that there had been a group of mages within Kinloch Hold that the templars had begun suspecting were practising blood magic in secret. They had a list of those believed to be part of that group. Fifteen mages all up, the most blood magic users the circle had ever seen at the one time. The very idea of so many at once made Cullen shudder. One morning during inspection they had found vials under Jayde's mattress that contained recent blood traces. As was standard procedure whenever a blood mages activities were proven, the Templars drained the magical power from her and placed her in solitary. At least that's what they had set out to do. Somehow she was prepared. She had taken a large dose of lyrium right before, so when they thought her power was drained it had not been. The first victims of her escape were the Templars tasked with putting her in the cell. Three all up. After that it appeared as if she had additional help from the outside, a back door had been broken through which allowed her to leave the tower. Over all, nine Templars had been killed as she made her way through the tower to the waiting, open door.

Cullen would never have thought her capable of taking on even one Templar, let alone three at once. He had always believed her to be a healer with perhaps some minor elemental spells she had learned early. It was normal for young mage students to be taught a wide variety of spells until it became more clear which magical art they had an affinity for. What was written in the reports was not the work of any healer, it spelled destruction. The only other magic capable of that much damage at once, was blood magic.

Cullen ripped the missive that was in his hand, screwed it up and threw it across the room. 


	4. Chapter 4

It was well into the afternoon by the time she traipsed back into the clinic. With every step her boots scuffed the floor, as if her legs were too heavy to lift into proper full sized steps. Both Anders and Hawke were there waiting with equally concerned expressions. Jayde barely had the energy to move, let alone ease their concerns. Those concerns became a moment of panicked frenzy when she removed her hooded cloak to reveal the blood soaked clothing underneath. She had no real sense of how long they fussed over her until Anders declared that the blood was not her own. Throughout all of the poking and prodding she remained silent. There was no resistance when she allowed them to lead her over to a chair and be seated.

It was her cousin's hands on her shoulders, gently shaking them, and the concern in her voice that seeped through the foggy haze of exhaustion. "Jayde, what happened to you? Whose blood is it?"

When she thought there were none left, a single tear slid down her cheek as she focused her eyes on Hawke, "I couldn't save him. He was so tiny, innocent and perfect. There was so much blood and she was so weak-," her voice cracked as sobs vibrated throughout her body.

"She is exhausted," Anders said quietly as he placed a hand softly on Hawke's shoulder. "Maybe you should help her clean up so she can get some rest."

It wasn't long after that she found herself in the back room of the clinic, dressed in one of the gowns usually reserved for patients and free of all blood traces. As she lay on the bed Jayde stared at the ceiling. For as exhausted as she was, sleep remained out of reach.

Outside of The Hanged Man the night before, her attempt to make a noise and alert anyone who may have been nearby had been muffled by the hand that was clasped around her mouth. The first thing to enter her mind had been Templars, she thought they had finally caught up with her. A quiet voice beside her ear had been quick to reassure her that she was in no danger, it did little to eliviate the fast beating of her heart. The voice begged her not to scream when he removed his hand. Ultimately it was the desperation in his voice that had compelled her to follow his instructions.

He needed the help of a healer for his labouring wife. He had described in part his wife's struggles and the blood she was losing but, it in no way prepared her for the sight befell her eyes. A small, pale and weak looking form of a woman was laying on top of a bed that was covered in blood soaked sheets, blankets and towels. Another woman, (she would later find out to be the womans sister) was by the bed holding a limp pale hand. She too was covered with blood smudges all over and her eyes - her eyes were haunted, defeated and full of grief.

When she was training as a healer she had learned there always appeared to be more blood than there actually was. In this case it was a combination of both. The pregnant woman was hemorrhaging badly and blood always spread quickly. It made the entire room look like a horror scene out of a poorly written novel. After the initial shock subsided, Jayde was quick to react. She spent the next hours with magic coursing through her veins as she healed one bleed after another within the mother's abdomen. The baby was overly large for his mother's tiny form. She worked tirelessly to keep the bleeding under control and try to dislodge the baby from where he was stuck against his mother's pelvis. It was a couple of hours before his birth that Jayde had already sensed the babies loss of heartbeat, his mother still needed saving and thus he had to be born regardless. So she remained quiet and continued to encourage the pale women on the bed.

It was an act of sheer desperation on Jayde's part that finally dislodged the baby's head from its trap. The woman on the bed had been screaming in agony for hours and was becoming ever weaker. She too would have been lost and then the man would have been without both his wife and his child.

Jayde held the baby's tiny, lifeless form as she looked upon his hopeful parents with sorrow and informed them of their son's demise. She passed his lifeless form over to his crying mother, at her request. In the woman's eyes was a look that would be forever etched into her mind; it was the look of a mother who would have rathered giving her own life to save her child than face a lifetime without him. With her head low and the offered words of condolences tasting sour upon her lips, Jayde slipped her hooded cloak back on and left the parents to their grief. What kind of a healer couldn't even save the life of a tiny innocent baby?

She climbed up-top a nearby building, from there she could see a large portion of Lowtown below. Groups of refugees stood huddled around single fires, scrambling for scraps of food. Everywhere she looked there was a sense of sorrow, of hopelessness, of people whose lives had been forever marked by despair. Instead of helping to set at least one thing right, to help someone have a glimmer of hope she had not been able to. Just as her healing magic had been useless against the demons when they came and ripped apart her best friend right before her eyes.

Healing magic had provided no defense against those beasts and, once a life was already lost, healing magic could not bring it back. It was on that day, followed by her mentor and teacher Wynne leaving to assist the Hero of Ferelden in her fight against the Darkspawn, that Jayde had set aside her studies of healing to focus on the destructive powers of the elements.

Destruction wouldn't have saved the baby any more than healing had. Or perhaps it was just her who could not live up to the powers that had been bestowed upon her.

She remained for hours on top of the building, sitting in silence watching. The one thing she didn't see was the pair of watchful eyes that had been upon her, from the moment she had left the man and womans abode.

Cullen had stormed out of the Gallows that morning after reading the reports. His stomach felt twisted and knotted to the point where it was nauseating. The burning started then deep within, rapidly expanding into an all consuming blind rage. His hands clenched into fists by his side. Jayde Amell turned blood mage, it was like a kick to his stomach that instantly expelled all the oxygen from his lungs.

She had been there, she had seen what blood magic could do. How dangerous it was and how innocent people lost lives because of mages that were out of control. Of all people, of all mages, she should have known better. This just stood as further proof that all mages were dangerous, perhaps even too dangerous to be allowed to continue. He would make sure she came to an end before anyone else could be harmed. It was a promise he made to himself and the innocents who lived in Kirkwall. Blood mages were a blight upon the lands that must be purged, each and every one of them.

Lowtown was where he had seen her last and the only place he had to begin his search. He guessed correctly that speaking with Hawke would only have been a waste of both his time and effort. He was surprised when he spotted her dark hood on the way to the alley near The Hanged Man, he most assuredly had not expected it to be that easy. Jayde was exiting a small, rundown looking abode when he caught sight of her. One thing that didn't sit right was her lack of caution, the hood was only half in place allowing him to see her identity easily. As she turned down the path, the cloak fell open, her clothing underneath was blood-stained and some of it looked fresh.

Cullen found himself caught between two options, going straight after her or looking to see if she had left someone behind who needed assistance. It was the image of her face as it had just been before she turned away, that flashed back into his mind and subsequently gave him pause. Jayde had looked positively grief stricken. Her face was marred with emotional pain, it was unlike any expression he had ever seen on her before and it drove right to his core. For the second time that day, Cullen had found himself devoid of oxygen.

On seeing her like that, the flames of burning rage inside him dimmed, just enough to have him turn and knock on the door she had walked out of only moments before. He spoke quietly to the man who appeared from inside and learned all that he was able to of the events that had taken place the night before. The truth was not what he had expected to hear, Jayde Amell the healer, just as he had remembered her to be.

Cullen followed the direction she had been heading in, expecting she would be well out of sight by the time he reached the end of the street. As he stopped to look in both directions he saw her again, she was climbing and her movements weren't fast. He could have easily caught up with her but he remained below. When he realised she had taken up residence at the top of the building and seemed to be in no hurry to leave, he had another opportunity make a move to detain her. Instead he took up a position of his own that allowed him to watch her through a looking glass he was carrying.

He spent the next hours watching and trying to convince himself that now was his chance to take her in. She was clearly exhausted and unalert. An easy mark.

He couldn't do it.

She looked so alone, lost, vulnerable and even afraid. She didn't look like an out of control blood mage about to unleash on the city. She looked like a person who was hurting, perhaps even as much as he.


End file.
